


Hands and Guns

by Peapods



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, he might have an ulterior motive besides self defense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands and Guns

Guns aren't entirely useless. Xander know this and he also knows that once upon a time he got an info-dump via some Halloween mojo and found out he was pretty damned good at the soldierly stuff.

He's not overly strong. He can lift heavy things and throw a mean fast ball. He has no particular martial arts skill. He can punch and block and choke hold and there endeth said skill. And he can run. Oh, boy, does he know how to run.

This latter skill, Riley assures him, will save his ass more than much anything else. Which doesn't explain why they're at the gun range with Riley's muscular body tucked up behind his, his big hands curling around Xander's, around a handgun. Gunpowder is already sweet in the back of Xander's throat and something in his brain stem, Soldier Guy, not Hyena Guy, recognizes the sensation.

"You're getting too much recoil because you're too tense. You have to relax into the kick, don't let it knock you back, but don't try and be its equal and opposite reaction either," Riley coaches.

Relaxing, in case you were wondering, is very hard to do when you're trying to suppress the big gay freak-out you're having about your best friend's guy. Not that Buffy and Riley are running much more than lukewarm these days. Xander learned this in one of the ever more frequent man-to-man chats Riley insists on having over shitty beer and shittier football.

"Now, gently squeeze," Riley says and Xander pops a shot off. The muzzle flash isn't as blinding as it was the first time, but it's still as loud, despite the protective ear covering. And this time, his shoulder doesn't jerk back to nail Riley in the face.

"Good! Ready to do it by yourself?"

_Yes, yes, doing it by myself would be wonderful, please step away before I molest you in front of the scary rednecks and jarheads._

"I can understand your desire to protect people in any way you can, I'm just not sure fire arms are the way to do it in this group," Riley tells him afterward as they hang out at Xander's shiny new apartment. It was a pricey gamble, but it's paying off in unexpected ways. Like guy nights that don't include his mother offering fruit punch.

"See, I'm certain the floor in that place wasn't level. It's the only thing that explains me falling on my ass so many times. Anyway, I'm just not sure 'screaming like girl' is getting the job done, you know? And there's more in this town than vamps and the few crazy demons you can only kill using, I don't know, the virgin blood of an albino alligator." It's sentences like those that make Xander wish he'd never learned words, but Riley, it seems, finds great humor in Xander's bizarre conversation.

"I think it's all in your stance," Riley declares, standing and gesturing for Xander to do the same. Riley spins him so they're front to back and slides right up against him again and boy, little Xander needs a little attention before ever hanging out with Riley for concentrated amounts of time again.

Those hands, calloused, efficient, are sliding down his inseam and Xander is trying not to gasp as they reposition his legs. They don't slide back up, but they're suddenly at his hips and Xander has always been ticklish, but those tickles haven't always been a direct current to his dick.

"There," Riley says and he is _right there_, snug against his back, raising his arms into the ready position.

_Jesus Christ on a pogo stick_, he thinks. Okay, he's had these feelings before. Puberty, the swim team's sauna, and The Fabulous Ladies Night Club notwithstanding it's never been so specific. There's never been one guy. One beefy, smile like a spotlight hitting a disco ball, big handed guy.

And it's then Xander realizes he hasn't said anything and neither has Riley and neither of them are pulling away and saying "how 'bout those Raiders, what a bunch of pussies." Their hands are practically clasped and Riley's are slowly brushing up Xander's arms, coming to his shoulders, still not moving away.

Xander can't be quiet anymore, "Riley--"

"Don't ask."

"Don't tell?" Xander quips, but it's like some kind of signal and he's being turned like a ragdoll and 6'2" of Iowa-bred farm boy is devouring him like someone just rang the bell for dinner.

"Is this--"

"I think my hard-on speaks for itself," Xander interrupts. He gives brief thought to his messy bed and lack of hospital corners, but that, it appears, is the last thought on Riley's mind.

His mouth is agile and quick and stays in no one place as he begins to tear Xander apart. This is no seduction, no time for showing off. They're naked and pressing against each other and good God every bit of Riley is big and impressive.

"I may or may not have stayed with Buffy so long only to get to know you," Riley confesses, out of breath from a whirlwind of trying to taste every inch of Xander.

"I think I'm supposed to be offended on her account, but I have a pressing need here which is kind of, you know, pressing," Xander says because really? He'll care later, now he wants to get off. They are slick with afternoon sweat and precum and shit, just _humping_ each other, grunting like animals.

And then, like a hallelujah, one of those gigantic hands of Riley's wraps around both their cocks and squeezes and Xander lets loose an agonized moan and thrusts hard, digging ragged fingernails into his back and wrapping his legs around Riley's.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Riley is chanting and he's staring right at Xander and fuck if that isn't hot. And then, on one particular pass, Riley is telling him how much he wants to fuck him and Xander just comes forever, Riley following him over.

They roll so Riley won't crush Xander and he's sort of propped on that muscled chest.

"It wasn't the guns that got you hot, right?" Riley asks.

"Only the ones attached to your shoulders," Xander answers and it's such a ridiculous statement that they're both laughing like little boys, snorting and pretending like they're not giggling.

"And don't worry about the guns," Riley says. "I'll protect you."

It's delivered in the perfect tone for an eye roll, a light punch to the gut, and a thanks for the absolute sincerity behind the hokeyness.

And if, deep down, Soldier Guy is having a shit fit about essentially being called a girl, well, that's his problem.


End file.
